18 POND LIFE 



from the one and that from the other meet. In the meantime the 

 contents of the cells have altered, have massed together into 

 a smaller space. Then the walls of two touching protuberances 

 break, and the contents of the one cell passes across and joins 

 that of the other. The " spore " thus formed eventually 

 elaborates a fresh filament. Spirogyra is visible to the naked 

 eye ; it will be seen as a fine green thread-like weed often on 

 the surface of the water. 



This book is not intended to deal with plants alone, or else 

 we might have made further inquiries into the life histories of 

 many more interesting species. The reader will doubtless 

 come to the conclusion that plants are greatly misunder- 

 stood, and that they are not so hopelessly inert as one might 

 expect. 



We are still in a world of Lilliputians: amongst the ex- 

 traordinary plants, so very different to those we are familiar 

 with, equally original animals live their lives, uninterrupted 

 by modern civilisation. The motor, electric tram, and other 

 complicated machines have made no difference to their lives, 

 and except for circumstances of pond interest, they have 

 altered little as time passed on. 



The higher animals have been affected by modern con- 

 ditions : the lion and tiger, the rook, and other wild birds have 

 learnt what man is, have realised his danger, they have become 

 accustomed to his manners and habits. 



But the microscopic inhabitants of the pond have never seen 

 man, and they can have no idea of his appearance, for their 

 world is so vast that one shudders with the idea of what it 

 must be. For the merest spot of water is a veritable lake to 

 these minute creatures, which swim to and fro, passing over 

 each other, and becoming lost in the depth of a " sheet of 

 water " practically non-existing on a microscopic slide. 



And man ignorantly wanders about, all-important in himself, 

 and only too willing to form the opinion that everything was 

 made for his particular benefit, and that all animals work by 

 instinct, and have no hopes, no ideas in fact nothing but the 

 power to live. 



And the mycologist, as he watches these little specks of life, 

 vibrating with energetic movement, hurrying and scurrying to 

 and fro, so busy in their lives, so eager to accomplish some 

 object of which he has no knowledge, thinks perhaps of many 

 a man, living a life of nothings doing nothing, finishing 

 nothing, never eager, never agile, except when it comes to a 

 matter of games. 



And then the humour of the situation comes to him, for he 



